Mentored By The Gray
by Soxman
Summary: Instead of dying at the heart of Malachor, Kreia finds herself in another universe. No pairing... yet. No longer a One-shot.
1. Chapter 1

AN: Kreia gets transported to Harry Potter. Also, Harry can use the force. I don't own either Star Wars or Harry Potter. One-shot… for now. Merry Christmas

Prologue: A New Purpose

Kreia awoke to unfamiliar surroundings. Her old body ached and cried out against her attempts to stand. She tried to use the force to get a read on her surroundings, but the information it fed to her left her more confused. Finally, after a few minutes of struggle with her body she stood up to take store of her surroundings. What she saw through the force stunned her.

She was standing on a blacktop street with many houses surrounding her. It seemed to be a suburb, and late at night in that suburb. No one was around her. She was alone. Which was extremely odd considering her last memory placed her on the core of Malachor V; being killed by the exile…

But here she was, clearly alive, with all her senses and faculties, and a full connection to the force. But this wasn't Malachor. And this wasn't death. In fact, Malachor felt like an insect flying away rapidly, just on the horizon of vision right before it disappeared from sight, force or otherwise. Struck by the odd circumstances that brought her here… wherever here was, she decided to examine her person again.

She felt just as she did before the events on the Trayus core, except… she had both her hands? How could she not have noticed that? And, at her belt, was clipped a red-bladed lightsaber that had served her well her entire life. She also had her spare stored inside her night-black robes. And, she could see? Through both the force and her regular vision that had atrophied from lack of use. And her connection to the force was as strong as ever. So what the hell had happened to restore her body and bring her to this place?

She decided to try once again to sense her surroundings. And then she found it. It was like being hit in the face by a cascade of water. Another force sensitive, and a strong one at that, perhaps even more raw strength than Revan, if that was possible, stood not a hundred feet from her. He was currently asleep.

Drawing her attention away from the powerhouse of the force, she settled into a meditative trance to try and make sense of the world. There was no force sensitive life on this planet, aside from the boy. Instead, the power on this planet was magic.

It seemed impossible, like an unenlightened fantasy of the ignorant. And yet, some of the people of this planet held immeasurable power- power to speak with animals, to conjure objects, to remake them- that she could never comprehend. But the boy near her; he was special. He had a connection, and a strong one at that, to both the force, and this power of magic.

She strengthened her inquiry and drew deeper into the force. Her breathing slowing, her mind processing, she reached out to the four corners of the globe. And finally, she found the answers she sought.

She was on the planet Earth, far away from the time and space of Revan and the Exile. They had long since become one with the force. The galaxy was in a time of peace, currently. But Earth, it's people, had no knowledge of the galaxy beyond. She was cut off from the galaxy. And here, the force held no jurisdiction; it was magic that ruled the land. She was alone; removed from a galaxy that had been at the center of her life.

And everything she'd been working for- to show the exile the path she had to take, to defeat the True Sith; it was over. She was alone in a hostile land with no purpose.

All her life, her teachings, her students, her opposition, her manipulation; that had been what she lived for. But here, on this backwards planet, with almost no force sensitive's- no one to teach, to convert- well, what could she do?

And like a gift from the force, she found her answer. The boy, the boy she sensed earlier, the one force sensitive on this planet. He had been marked by destiny, both magic and the force. She could teach him. Here was a blank slate. He could be the most powerful student she ever taught; her crowning achievement. Revan had been felled by the Jedi before his work could be complete, and the Exile's life and sacrifices would never be known. But the boy, he was already a hero, he was perfect…

But how would she do this? Going into the house to her left and getting the boy would be like stirring up a mynock's nest. At such an intersection of importance and destiny, she was sure there would be others on this planet keeping a close eye and a vested interest on the boy. And she could hardly afford to reveal her existence so soon in the game.

But… what if she lived there and taught the boy. If she went into the house, took up residence, and masked her presence from all but the boy… yes that would work. But if she was going to be a good teacher, she needed to know where to direct her charge for answers. She needed to gather supplies and information. It would be a long road to take, but it was a much better prospect than looking at life like an extinguished flame; wishing desperately it would reignite, but being left with only a few last vestiges of warmth.

_"Awaken."_

A small, frail-looking eight-year old boy named Harry James Potter awoke in the middle of the night at the voice's command. He looked around wildly for the voices owner. His untamed black hair obstructed his vision and he had to brush it out of his eyes. What he finally found was an old woman dawning a black robe kneeling down to him. Her face was obscured by the raised hood, but it didn't hide her long, braided, snow-white locks.

"Hello, Harry Potter." She spoke with an old and weary tone that only held a hint of the power she'd once unleashed on the galaxy. Harry Potter bolted upright and away from his small mattress in his cupboard. How did this woman know who he was? What did she want from him?

"I am Kreia; your rescuer. I have come here to teach you." She saw his look of confusion. "Have you ever wondered about the strange powers you can use? The power you used to teleport to the top of a school roof; to regrow your hair in one night after a horrible haircut?" She saw many emotions flash across his face; disbelief, defiance, confusion, betrayal, thoughtfulness.

"I don't know what you're talking about. Such power doesn't exist." He finally answered.

Kreia laughed. "And how do you know that?"

"My relatives told me," he answered.

"Really, so you would take the word of your relatives- relatives who have made you into a slave and who have never hidden their hatred of you- over the word of a rational explanation from a neutral party," The condensation was evident in her tone. "Think; your relatives obviously hate you. They don't consider you "normal." What reason would they have to think you aren't "normal?" Unless you had this power, and they knew, and they feared what you would do to them once you had the power under control?" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "You could be great, you know. You have power, more than I have ever seen. But unless you learn to control it; it will destroy you."

"What do you know of my power?" asked Harry in a whisper.

"You have power in two fields; the force, and magic. And in both disciplines, you are talented. In fact, the magical world worships you as the boy-who-lived for destroying a dark lord plaguing that world." She saw Harry's skeptical look. "You don't remember because you did it when you were one year old."

Harry's look changed to shock. "The bright green light?" he whispered.

"Yes, that was the light of a curse that was intended to kill you. You survived, where no one ever has before, and destroyed that Dark Lord in the process. Or perhaps delayed; destruction of such an entity in such a manner is very questionable. But, as I said, you are powerful; very gifted." She was silent for a moment, letting this sink in. "And I offer you my teachings; I can help you on the road to greatness. Are you willing to accept my teachings, to learn from me, my life, my experiences, and my mistakes?"

Harry looked off into the distance, his mind spinning. This strange woman came to him and told him about this power that he'd only ever unconsciously drawn on. She claimed he was powerful, that he could control the force, whatever that was, and magic, and she apparently read his mind to give him examples. Clearly, this woman had the power. And she was offering to teach him. Her words echoed in his mind. "_You could be great, you know. You have power, more than I have ever seen. But unless you learn to control it; it will destroy you_." No matter what the woman said or did, he would have this power. But wild and untamed as it was, there was a very good chance it could destroy him. She had knowledge, willingness to teach, time on her hands to do it; he would be a fool not to accept her offer.

"I accept any teaching you can give me," he said finally after a few moments of hesitation.

An old weathered hand fell on his shoulder. "Then your training must begin immediately. Your first lesson will deal with controlling the force." She drew back from him and set herself, legs crossed, in a meditative trance. "Copy my stance," she commanded. Seconds later Harry had copied her trance. "Now close your eyes." He did just that. "And cast aside your perceptions of the world around you. Feel the tendrils of the force as it connects to your mind, expanding outwards." And he felt it; a gigantic waterfall, drenching him in power, yet leaving his clothes dry. In enveloped him, sending his senses spiraling in many directions. He was drowning; the power was too much…

His eyes opened. "Very good," Kreia commented. "You felt it, the raw power of the force. That is a lesson it takes many apprentices months to learn. You got it in minutes. I have a feeling this is the beginning of a beautiful apprenticeship."


	2. Chapter 2

AN: And here we go… Yes, it's finally happening. As I've explained on my profile, because of severe problems with my main computer, leaving HPAE, ITSOAE, and MLIAD inaccessible for the time being, I switched over to expanding one-shots. This story was always going to be released today, even though I accidently listed March 17 on my profile, and didn't change it. Anyway, I hope you enjoy. I (unfortunately) don't own Harry Potter or Kotor.

Chapter One: Lessons

_The Next Day_

Harry awoke to sweat rolling off his forehead. He looked around his cupboard wildly, wondering if it had just been a dream.

"No, I'm afraid not," whispered a voice from the other side of the room, with just a hint of amusement. Harry stared at place where he'd heard her.

"Kreia?" Harry whispered, hoping against hope that this was not a dream. That she…

"I am here," Kreia answered, becoming visible once more. Harry only just noticed her long braids of snow white hair that protruded from beneath her hood. It was also at this moment that the many wrinkles on her face suddenly seemed to register in his mind.

"How old are you?" Harry blurted out curiously.

Kreia merely faced him, and though Harry could not see her eyes, he imagined that they were raised. "It is not polite to ever ask a woman that," Kreia replied finally after a moment of silence. An awkward silence ensued, as Harry tried to find a way to apologize, only for Kreia to interrupt him. "We must begin your training in full now. For that, we will need a space with more room than this dungeon. Follow me," she commanded as she got to her feet and knelt down through the tiny opening of cupboard. Harry's mouth dropped open as he saw the open door and realized he was no longer imprisoned. With barely contained glee, he bounded after Kreia like a loyal dog.

Once out in the hall, he froze in horror. There, walking towards him, with a familiar expression of anger and hate on his face, was his Uncle. Harry gulped, and considered diving back into the cupboard before his Uncle noticed him. He was saved from having to make that decision by his Uncle waddling past while grumbling about something. He stared curiously at his Uncle, half expecting the man to come to his senses and start screaming at him. But, after a few seconds of watching him like a hawk, Harry gently closed his cupboard door and bounded upstairs to where Kreia had headed.

Up on the second floor, he could find no trances of her. He had looked through the bathroom, and all four bedrooms. He was thinking about looking for her in the attic, when a thought hit him.

_"Cast aside your perceptions of the world around you. Feel the tendrils of the force as it connects to your mind, expanding outwards."_ Kreia had taught him to feel the force- come to think of it, he had no idea what "the force" was, or what she meant. But maybe if he did as she taught, he would find her again.

He set himself cross-legged in the middle of the hall, and began trying to feel the force again. Nothing. He just felt empty and alone. Refusing to give up, he began trying harder to feel the force. He still felt nothing. No waterfall sensation. No drowning sensation. Nothing. Complete emptiness- a silent abyss, but no Kreia. Hope began to trickle away.

Had Kreia tricked him? Did she somehow fool him into believing he had some great power? How could he have ever been anything but great when his relatives could kick him around at will? When he trembled at the mere sight of his Uncle?

"_Use the hate_," a soothing voice whispered in his ear. "_Show them you're not worthless. CRUSH THEM!"_

Harry's eyes snapped open at the voice's proclamation. He tried to stand and run away from the malicious voice, but he had forgotten he was sitting cross-legged, and in his haste to get up, he tripped over himself and landed on the floor in a heap. Hard.

Even in his dazed state, he was almost certain he was bleeding. On his Aunt's nice clean floor. If Kreia was just a figment of his imagination then his Aunt would… He curtailed his dark train of thought and looked around wildly, wondering if he was about to be attacked, feeling as if a dark shade stood right next to him. "_Why would I attack you Harry? I am a friend. Your only friend. And as your friend, I'm asking you to use your power. Become great. Exact your revenge!"_ the same voice whispered soothingly. Harry crashed to the floor as he felt almost as if he had been tackled. Darkness obscured his face, as he felt like he was struggling for his very soul.

"No!" Harry whispered back in terror. "I won't," he shot back. "I WON"T!" he screamed, as he felt the darkness try and overtake him once more. It was as if a floodgate had opened, and pouring out from it came all the emotion he had tried to contain. Piers Polkiss holding his arms behind his back as Dudley slammed his fist into Harry's gut over and over again. Cowering in Fear, trying to use the kitchen table as a shield, against one of his Uncle's many venomous tirades. His Aunt's icy glare of indifference as he begged her to do something about Dudley, before she labeled him a liar and set him to work cleaning the attic.

Desperately, he somehow managed to think back to when Kreia had showed him the force, when he had felt the waterfall of power wash over him. Finally, he felt the power come to his aid, and begin to push back against the darkness. Hope flooded through him as he began to finally believe that he could win this, that Kreia could teach him, and make him stronger… The struggle ended as Harry drew on the well of hope and power, and the darkness receded, sensing defeat, leaving Harry lying on his back, breathing heavily, and apparently alone.

"Very good Harold!" A familiar voice whispered, as Kreia reappeared. She rubbed her hand over the cut on his head, and Harry felt the pain partially numb. "Unfortunately, Harold, some of the pain must remain. You will come to understand, in time. And now, your real training begins."

She stood and walked over to the nearest bedroom. Harry, still dazed at the strange turn of events hoisted himself to his feat and followed her into the room- what he recognized to be his cousin's second bedroom. Kreia sat, cross-legged once more, in front of the bed. Harry took a seat opposite her.

"You felt it, didn't you?" she asked rhetorically. Harry nodded, knowing she was talking about the darkness. "Was the suggestion… seductive?" Harry looked confused. "Did you want to listen to the voice?" Kreia asked, rephrasing her question.

"No…I didn't," Harry replied evenly, starting to feel nervous once more.

"Good," Kreia replied calmly. "You have just come into contact with the Dark Side." She saw the familiar look of confusion on Harry's face. "I told you of two powers?" Kreia clarified. Harry nodded. "The force binds the galaxy together. It touches everything, even that which is blind to it." Confusion once more. It was starting to annoy Kreia. She gestured to the bookshelf. Harry turned to look at it. "The force is in every one of those books." She demonstrated by levitating five books, while Harry's mouth fell open at the blatant display of supernatural power. "And the bookshelf," she continued, while putting the books back in their proper spots, and then raising the entire thing a few inches off the ground. "However, though the force is in everything, your relatives could never accomplish this." Finally, at long last, understanding dawned.

"With the force, there is a light, and there is a dark." Now her perspective student seemed to be following along. "Both sides have different powers. Light, for instance," she brushed her hand against his wound again, and healed a small portion, "Can heal. Dark, however," deep blue bolts of lightning danced from her hands to the remnants of Dudley's broken TV, turning it into little more than goo, "Destroys."

"That seems a little…" Harry trailed off, not knowing how voice his objections.

"Simple. Yes, but we will come to that in time." Kreia took a breath. "Will you become my apprentice, Harold?" she asked suddenly.

"Apprentice?" Harry asked in return.

"Do you wish to learn from me?" Kreia asked again.

Harry thought for a second, once again feeling the cascade of power flowing through him.

"Yes," Harry replied.

"Good; then there is no turning back." Kreia levitated a book over to her new student. "In the next 24 hours, read that book, cover to cover." She saw Harry start to complain. "Your relatives won't ever bother you again. Read in peace. Mark down what you don't understand."

Kreia stood to leave and take up residence elsewhere in the house, while Harry opened to the first page, and began to read, what he would later find out, was a dictionary.

* * *

_The Next Week_

"Read it again, Harold," Kreia commanded as she walked in and saw Harry wasn't reading.

Harry had finally had enough. "Why am I reading the dictionary?"

"Because it contains many valuable lessons you need to learn," Kreia replied. She knelt down next to him. "How many times have you read it?"

Harry looked down. "Seven," he muttered.

A ghost of a smile flickered across Kreia's face. "Good." She was silent for a moment. "What does it mean to extrapolate?" she asked suddenly.

Harry wracked his brains for a moment. "To go into more detail?" he replied quizzically.

"Correct." With that, she continued to ask him to define many other words. After what felt like hours of questioning, she finally ceased. "As I suspected, you have a rare gift Harold: Force Comprehension."

Harry just stared blankly at her pronouncement. "What is Force Comprhension?"

"The ability to record and process large quantities of information. However, this ability can only be used when you draw heavily on the force, and when you possess a level of underlying understanding of the subject in question. If you tried to use this ability while reading a book of advanced math, you would not understand any of it. Be very careful, Harold, as even a gift such as this could be a crippling weakness at the wrong moment," Kreia warned.

"How?" Harry asked, not understanding how such a gift could ever be a curse.

Kreia was silent. "To process is not to understand," she said finally. "Drawing so heavily on the force at the wrong moment could lead to your undoing. Sometimes, what you don't know can't hurt you. These are just three examples of how this ability can be your undoing." She fell silent. "We are done with this exercise. It is time to begin learning how to properly use the force."

Once more, Kreia set herself cross-legged, and Harry followed suit. "Close your eyes, Harold." Harry did just that, while feeling a slight pang of annoyance that she kept calling him Harold. "To me, you will always be Harold," Kreia whispered. "Now then, close your eyes, and let go of your thoughts."

Harry closed his eyes, and tried to let go of his thoughts just as Kreia said. But every time he tried to clear his head, there were always thoughts that remained. "_Why am I doing this; I look really stupid_," a voice whispered through his mind. Harry tried to bat it away, as he felt like it was another manifestation of the dark side.

"Having trouble?" Kreia asked, seeing his inability to drop into a meditative trance.

"Yes, I am," Harry gasped, as he hadn't realized he had been holding his breath while struggling to concentrate.

"What seems to be the problem?" she asked.

"I just can't… clear my head," Harry complained slowly, as he tried and failed once again.

Kreia's cold hands suddenly connected with his head, and Harry nearly jumped. "Let me in, Harold," she whispered. "Let me into your mind… so I can see what the problem is."

Like a knife slicing through butter, Harry felt Kreia slip into his mind. "Kreia?"

"Follow me inside," came the whisper, and suddenly Harry was standing with her, floating in air, staring at a vortex of dark light. And there was Kreia, calmly floating in the middle of the vortex.

"Kreia? What are you doing?" Harry asked. He had no idea what to make of his present situation. She was silent, and Harry was about to ask again, just to make sure she'd heard him.

"Ah, and here is the problem," she declared, and suddenly Harry found himself back in his bedroom. Kreia's cold hands were still grasping his head. "Relax," she commanded softly, and Harry, who had begun fidgeting, stopped. "It is done," and with that, she finally removed her hands from his head.

Harry felt like something was different, but he could not put his finger on it, so he decided to ask. "Kreia, what did you do?"

Kreia was silent for a moment. "There was something inside you, a part of you, which prevented you from clearing your mind. I have sealed it away. It is still there, for there will come a time when you need it." Silence reigned once more. "Now then, back to clearing your mind."

Once more, Harry closed his eyes and tried to empty his head of thoughts. This time, no stray thoughts of annoyance, or doubt, or any kind of dissent reared its head, and his mind stayed mercifully clear.

"Cast aside your perceptions of the world around you," she whispered. "Sight, sound, smell; these are insignificant at our current juncture. There is only the force. Awaken!"

And Harry finally felt it, at long last: the Force. It washed over him once more, enveloping him in its intensity. His eyes snapped open, but this time, the Force did not leave him. It stayed, like an old friend, whispering words of comfort.

"As you will see in time, you've taken your first steps down a road from which there is no return." She stretched out her hand, and one of the books flew over. "For your first lesson in using the force, I will teach you how to levitate this book."

* * *

_The Next Month_

The sweat poured off of Harry's face as he struggled to keep six heavy textbooks in the air. He still had two minutes to go before the exercise was over. Of all the lessons Kreia taught him, this one was by far the most difficult. As Kreia had taught him to do whenever his body was in the midst of an intense exercise, his thoughts, while staying on keeping the books in the air, also drifted to the delicious roast his Aunt was making for dinner. Since his relatives had been ignoring him ever since Kreia's arrival, Harry was able to sneak down and have as much of their evening meal as he wanted. And Roast Beef, mashed potatoes, and some cabbage were a great reward after a hard day's work. While his thoughts drifted to the sumptuous roast, the books stayed in midair.

At Kreia's delicate clapping, Harry was finally allowed to drop the textbooks. Or rather, land them on the grounds. Dropping the textbooks showed a lapse in concentration that would lead to more time spent on the exercise tomorrow. Splitting his consciousness was fine, letting it lapse was not.

Harry stretched a little, before he followed Kreia out to the street. He followed Kreia to the end of the lane, before turning sharply. At Kreia's wave, he set off sprinting towards the other end of the street. Once he reached the sign for the side-street, he stopped, and began panting. A few seconds later, he turned, and with much less energy, began to sprint back to his starting point.

"You took less time than yesterday," Kreia commented as Harry began to recuperate. She was silent for a moment, an indication that she was about to ask him a question. "Why do you think I make you struggle with these repetitive exercises day after day?"

Harry thought for a second, and finally settled on an honest reply. "I don't know," he shrugged. "To strengthen my powers, I guess."

Kreia laughed harshly. "That is a mistake I made for nearly my entire life: being concerned with power. If all you care about strength or power, then life becomes empty." She paused for a minute, as if searching for the right words. "You know that I have taught others before you, Harold?"

"Yes," Harry nodded, caught somewhat off guard by this new line of questioning.

"Have you ever wondered how powerful they were?" Kreia asked.

"Um… yes," Harry replied blankly.

"Let me make it clear; while you are powerful, you could never compete with my former students..." she saw Harry's crestfallen look, "Especially seeing as you are eight and your powers are still developing." She took a breath. "If you fell into the trap of comparing your progress to that of my former students, it would not be the first time such a thing has happened." Her voice lowered an octave. "But it is still a trap, Harold, and there is no reason to fall into it. You are young, extremely powerful for your age, and making good progress. But there is one thing you must learn if you are to succeed."

She gestured to Number Four Privet Drive. "Do you imagine that you could ever have the power to physically lift it? To, perhaps, shake your relatives around, scare them in such a manner, for how they treated you before my intervention?"

Harry took a step back, as if he was physically repulsed by the idea. "N-NO!" he cried. "I Ne-Never!"

Kreia surveyed him steadily. "Good," she replied. "Then have you perhaps even imagined the power to save those you love, perhaps Force speed to save a friend from being run over?"

Harry stared back at her with a deer in the headlights look. "Yes," he finally muttered while looking away.

'That is my lesson to you," Kreia whispered, kneeling down to meet him at eye level. "These exercises are to enhance your power, so, that when the time comes for a desirable end to be within reach, you are powerful enough to reach it." She cleared her throat. "But we have spoken enough of this, and precious time is being wasted where you could be getting more powerful. Now then, run the drive once more."

* * *

_The Next Year_

"In your Uncle's office, there is a file cabinet- we shall meet there," Kreia told him after a few months of training, right before she left his bedroom. This had become a rather typical Kreia training session: she would give him a task and a free hand on how to accomplish his task, and then brutally critique whatever techniques he had used. In addition, there was always some wider purpose- some wider goal- he was supposed to grasp at lesson's end.

Gently, he concentrated on the force, and began using it to shroud his presence from his relative's eyes. He softly opened his bedroom door and snuck down the stairs, trying to not make too much noise. This technique might cloud the minds of others so that they didn't see a person, but it did not dampen their senses, and if the two went to war, then the senses would probably win. Meaning that Harry might be discovered if the senses said there was someone there, even if the mind said there wasn't. Kreia was more than happy to shield him when he went to dinner, but, as could be expected, she was much more skilled in that technique than he was.

The running water from the kitchen told him what his Aunt was doing, and his Uncle and Cousin were on the sofa staring at the tellie. Harry snuck past the couch, and around to the basement door by the cupboard.

He slipped down the creaky stairs, making sure not to alert his Aunt, who would be down any second with the wash. He gently tiptoed past the washing machine and dryer, right into his Uncle's office. All that stood between him and his objective was a locked door.

While the force couldn't do anything about that, because he had not mastered that aspect of it yet, perhaps magic would provide a solution. He closed his eyes and began focusing on his connection to magic. Gently, he began using the force to picture the lock in its entirety, a standard deadbolt. He reached out with his magic, and tried to gently force it open.

Suddenly, his concentration broke as his Aunt opened the washing machine to launder some dirty clothes. He had only gotten the lock half-way open, and he knelt down to the floor, staggered by his efforts. He could barely contain his panting, but if he didn't, than his Aunt would see him. He struggled to make sure his presence was still shrouded from her mind, and was rewarded by his Aunt finishing up and walking away without ever detecting him.

Making sure there was nothing else around to distract, he returned to trying to open the lock. Once again, the deadbolt came into view in his mind's eye, and he began using magic to turn it. Finally, after what must have been a minute of intense concentration, the deadbolt opened, and Harry collapsed to the floor. Kreia's training sessions often left him in such a state.

After a minute of much needed rest, Harry began struggling to get his feet. Finally, he stood, while leaning himself against the door, and opened it. He wearily stepped inside, and turned to his right, where he knew, thanks to the force, the file cabinet would be.

He walked towards the file cabinet, and the second he was within touching distance, Kreia rematerialized. "That took you ten minutes," she scolded. "Time is the most valuable asset you will ever have, meaning you will need to manage it better in the future. As for your technique…"  
"While using the force deception technique to hide yourself was a potentially good idea, you saw how quickly it could fail you at moments of distraction. If the horse," her affectionate nickname for his Aunt, "Had dropped a plate, or knocked something over, you probably would have lost your ability to concentrate. Couple that with the senior pig's attention turning to his wife, and it is quite likely you would have been blamed for those happenings," she lectured. "In addition, while I don't know much about your magical abilities, I do know they quickly exhaust you, especially without the aid of whatever it is those other wizards use… ah, yes, wands. If you weren't strong enough, then you would have been left exhausted, again, for the horse to discover. You will have to do much better next time, my apprentice," she scolded.

She turned to the file cabinet next to her. "Fix your mind upon it, Harold. Tell me, what do you sense in the top draw?"

Harry returned to a meditative trance and began trying to probe the cabinet for answers. He was continually rebuffed by the cold, hard metal casing. Finally, with none of the subtlety Kreia had drilled into his head, he forced his way past the metal barrier and began skimming the files. After a few minutes of searching, her furrowed his brow in confusion and opened his eyes.

"He's used file folders in all his draws. But in that one, all his files seem to be… out of order," he observed confusedly.

A faint hint of a smile was briefly visible from beneath Kreia's hood. "What is the point, Harold, of trying to organize his files if he does not stick to it?"

Harry thought for a minute. "Maybe… it wasn't on purpose. Maybe, he was busy… or distracted, and he just…" he trailed off.

"Exactly. Yet, he trusts his files to contain exactly what he needs at the right time, does he not?" Harry nodded. "So what use is it for him to label and sort if they are inaccurate?"

Harry was silent for a long moment. He had no answer he thought would satisfy her.

"There is no purpose," Kreia finished. "The labels are useless to him, and will most likely impede him in the future. Let that be a lesson to you: labeling and organization is worth nothing if not done properly. That also goes for people: trying to label someone as something is a waste of time. Yes, generalizations can be useful as a reference, but to think of someone or something as 'good' or 'evil' or anything else is ultimately a futile sport of fools. By the same token, 'Jedi' or 'Sith' follow the same rules: they are labels, used to simplify, but simplification does not generally lead to organization, or to enlightenment. Labels and titles are not something to be used when thinking of other people, because they often misrepresent a person, and misrepresentation can lead to miscalculation."

Harry thought for a minute, trying to understand what his mentor had said. Failing that, he blurted out, "So, you're saying that using a label is almost useless?"

Kreia nodded. "A label, if used incorrectly, is useless. Remember Harold, there is a use for everything."

Harry tried to process the lesson. _Thinking of people in terms of labels was… a bad practice. People were more than labels. He imagined his Uncle storming into his office in a huff trying to find some file or paper, and spending five or ten minutes to finally find it. And time was his most valuable asset…_

"I understand, Master," Harry replied after some more thinking.

* * *

_Another Year Later_

Once more, he stared at the vortex of dark light; a manifestation of the core of his power. His hand reached towards it, and the intensity of the vortex's power seemed to skyrocket. But he also felt as if something, some force, was attempting to hold him back, and prevent him from using his powers. Acting on instinct, and taking something akin to a leap of faith, Harry dived into the heart of the vortex. He immediately regretted his rash decision.

As he landed, each and every nerve in his body felt as if it was on fire. The rush of power that coursed through his body was a sensation similar to the electric shock he had once received after Dudley walked all over the carpet and used the build-up to shock him. Except that there was no apparent way to stop it from happening.

The pain stopped suddenly, and Harry opened his eyes to see a shimmering silver aura encircling him. He stood, and while the vortex violently swirled around him, there was nothing more in it to hurt him. His mission accomplished, he closed his eyes, and returned to consciousness.

His eyes, which had briefly turned silver, flashed back to green as he stared up at Kreia. "Have you succeeded?" she whispered.

Harry nodded gingerly, still feeling the pain from the vortex. "It wasn't easy, but I did it!" he panted. "I- it feels like…"

"Describe the sensation," Kreia commanded.

"It- it feels like having all of my senses magnified, as if I am seeing the world clearly, but only for the first time!" Harry exclaimed.

"Now do you see why I was so adamant this tradition be carried on?" Kreia asked. "Since my first apprentice, I have insisted at the age of ten that they embark on a journey much like yours, to secure their power. There has only ever been one exception to that rule, and she was not my apprentice until much later in life." A forlorn look flashed across Kreia's aged face. "Traveling to the core of your power, and connecting with it on such a level is not a journey all of my apprentices have returned from unscathed. But do you feel the force, as I described it to you?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, I feel a pull to everything, and I can sense certain things. Like-" He froze as he stared at Kreia. "An aura of darkness… coming from you!" he whispered as he began to crawl backwards.

"Then your senses are working properly!" Kreia laughed bitterly. "Surprised? I'm sure, deep down; you always knew there was something dark about me! Why does it surprise you to be confronted with knowledge you already possessed?"

"I never felt-" Harry started trembling. "What have you done?"

"You would be surprised to know how easy it was to keep my true nature hidden, for such a long time. But yes, there is darkness in my soul," Kreia replied. "Do you wish to hear the tale?"

"Please, I- I have to know!" Harry stammered.

"Then I shall tell you." Kreia paused. "There are dark places in the galaxy… ancient centers of learning, of knowledge. But I did not walk alone. Two students, who I had nurtured since infancy, who I had taught all I knew, walked with me. But an alliance built by hatred is a… fragile alliance at best. My will was not law. There were disagreements, ambitions… and a hunger for power. In the end, I was left alone, and exiled- stripped of my power." Kreia gave a short, bitter laugh that sounded oddly like a bark. "I am perhaps the only individual in the galaxy who has "failed Jedi master" and "failed Sith lord" on their resume." She paused. "I tell you this, not to frighten you, but to enlighten you, so you can know the truth. Learn from me, from my mistakes, from my teachings, become greater than I ever was… that is all I ask. And above all, do not fall… as I fell."

With that, Kreia stood up and left the room, leaving Harry alone to meditate.

* * *

_July 30, 1991_

Sweat poured down Harry's face as he struggled to push the table back towards Kreia. A tendril of power indicated that Kreia responded in turn, and the table slid back towards him. Harry, determined not to lose this time, struggled to find a hidden reservoir of power so that he didn't lose this tug-of-war. Finding nothing else, he tapped into the force, for once last strike to win this round. With a push, the table rocketed toward her. A wave of her hand, and Kreia stopped the table in midair. Another wave and it catapulted back towards Harry. Having no strength left to continue this fight, Harry dropped to the floor and let the table collide against the wall behind him.

"Good reflexes," Kreia commented. "But you will have to fully immerse yourself in the force if you want to defeat me in this exercise. But enough of this: now, we must talk."

Harry and Kreia sat themselves cross-legged, facing opposite each other."This is about Hogwarts," Harry guessed.

Kreia nodded. "Your relatives have destroyed every Hogwarts letter that has come into their possession. Tonight, an emissary will arrive. Above all, do not let them know that you know of the Wizarding World, of the force, of magic, of me. All must be kept closely guarded, both tomorrow, and when you depart for school." She paused. "I will not be able to accompany you."

Harry's face betrayed no emotion, but internally, it was like his world was collapsing. His teacher… his mentor, wasn't going to be there! A cascade of emotions bombarded him, as the ramifications of her statement finally seemed to hit him. "I understand," Harry whispered.

"You will need a good night's sleep, Harold, but before you retire, there is one more thing you need to do. When you shop for wands, get two. Is that understood?" she asked.

Harry nodded. "Why, though?"

Kreia stood and walked to the door without answering. As she was about to leave the room, she turned and looked at him. The expression on her face conveyed absolutely nothing to Harry, and he had long since learned that trying to read her was pointless. "Always in motion is the future." And then she left.


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Boy, it has been a long time since I last updated, hasn't it? Well, either way, here is another installment. I thought this would be an interesting little piece to add to this puzzle. I do not own Harry Potter, Star Wars, or Kotor, and I hope you all enjoy.

Interlude: Rendering a Verdict

"How progresses your new student?" The low, slightly Scottish, voice that asked the question belonged to a transparent figure whose skin looked like it had been cracked and put back together multiple times.

"Still you travel with me?" Kreia asked quietly. "What will it take to rid me of these demons of the past?"

"Perhaps answering the question," Intoned another voice, this once a smooth accent that had belonged tone of the most feared and revered figures during his life, one who was considered far and away Kreia's best student.

"So you have finally become one with the force?" Kreia asked rhetorically. "Is it possible that such a fate awaits me?" She wondered aloud.

"Such a fate does await you, my former master. After all, you know the secrets of this form of immortality just as we do. You have just taken a… slight detour, to get there," Revan commented.

"If only I could believe what you say. If only I could want that fate to be mine," Kreia muttered.

"You have not answered the question," Sion pointed out bluntly. "How progresses your student? Is he to be corrupted as we were?"

Kreia laughed harshly. "You were never corrupted Sion; you fell. You could not walk the path the galaxy demanded of us, and you fell into darkness because of it." She glanced slyly at Revan. "Besides, one of you succeeded quite beyond my wildest dreams."

"I failed, Master," Revan pointed out. "I-"

"I know you consider it a failure, my student, but everything has worked out as to bring us to this point," Kreia interrupted. "The galaxy sits on the verge of a crisis- though they are unaware. The path he walks, though unclear, will lead him there."

"What of this… magic?" Sion finished scornfully. "What is the difference?"

"The Force is external, in all things. It binds the galaxy together. This… magic, from what I understand, is an internal force, one capable of great change, but even more extreme consequences," Kreia answered. "Ah, once again, I feel like I am back on Malachor, instructing you in the basics of the force," She commented wistfully.

Sion snorted. "You haven't changed at all, have you?"

"As if you are one to talk," Kreia retorted. "You, the Lord of Pain, who held his body together through sheer corrupted, diseased willpower. No, I do not think you are in a position to render judgment."

"What of your student?" Revan asked quietly.

"My student… he is comparable to you in many ways. A young mind, quite easily molded, a certain tenacity of will, a drive towards success. He has encountered much in the way of success to this point, but there is conflict on the horizon. The coming months will test him, will require him to use everything he has learned. Only after that conflict passes will I be in a position to pass judgment," Kreia explained.

"Pass judgment," Sion echoed sadly. "You really haven't changed. And what is your noble plan for this unfortunate soul?" Kreia gave him a piercing look. "Oh don't be like that, my master; you always had a plan."

"I resent that accusation. I have only ever acted in such a manner as I was required to," she defended quietly.

"Oh, really?" a third voice asked almost shrilly. This voice belonged to Kreia's last apprentice, before taking on Harry.

"Yes, Meetra. Really," Kreia responded dryly. "In a way, even when I pursued my own ends, I was only ever a conduit for the force to act through."

"So that's how you justify everything; a conduit? And I thought you weren't fond of machines," Meetra Surik, known in life as the Jedi Exile, responded heatedly.

"I will not debate the merits of my actions, for nothing positive can come of scavenging through the past in such a manner. I will say that even if you hate me for it, the lessons I taught you were quite valuable, and they served you quite well in that great breadth of Unknown space you ventured into," Kreia replied quietly.

"And will you be teaching him 'similar lessons,'" Meetra asked, coming to the heart of the matter.

Kreia sat silently, being judged by the ghosts of her three most important former students. "What can I say that will satisfy you? If I tell you the truth you wish to hear, you will accuse me of spreading a fallacy, and if I speak of the truth you do not wish to hear, you shall render a final judgment upon me and all I have done," Kreia whispered.

"Someone has to sit in judgment over you," Sion replied icily.

"Yes. But not you. You are all, for better or worse, the greatest students I have ever taught; who changed the galaxy in ways even the pitiful archives of the Jedi or the fragmented scraps of history that remain from the Sith can not hope to tell. Your story is one that is not meant to be known. And I am responsible for the greatest story ever not known. I am an architect, a director, a hero, a villain, all in one, for that story. As much as you would like to, you are not the right people to pass a verdict," Kreia explained. "Our fates are, and have always been, too intertwined for one string to be separated from the rest."

"You will surely lead him to ruin just as you did for me," Sion remarked scornfully before walking off and disappearing.

"Please, turn back. Turn away from this path. I know, even after everything, that there is still good in you. Please use it," Meetra begged, before she too disappeared.

Kreia turned to Revan, who still remained in her presence. "And what of you?"

"In a way, you always knew best, Master," Revan replied, before he too faded away.

Kreia sighed. After al long pause she lifted her head up and chuckled in amusement. "It looks like the jury is still out."


	4. Chapter 4

AN: I know some were a little disappointed by the brevity of the last chapter. This one is quite a bit longer, though not nearly as long as they will be in the future. However, it has been published without my beta finishing his work on it. The next update might take a week or more. Or less, I suppose. But anyway, I don't own Kotor or Star Wars or Harry Potter, and I hope you all enjoy.

Chapter Two: Through The Lens of The Force

The Force. It bound the galaxy together, existing in all life, and connecting all things. And it was currently pulling Harry in about twelve different directions as he walked down the Alley behind Hagrid. It seemed like every store they walked past was one Harry wanted to camp out in. The magical world really seemed to be quite fascinating. But first he needed capital, and Hagrid was his way to access the small fortune he'd apparently been denied. Or so the giant had alluded, anyway.

Not that he particularly liked the man. Or disliked him. Or felt anything at all about him, really. He was simply a means to an end. Granted, he had been impressed by the birthday cake, as he'd never received one before, but he, still didn't know the man at all. Nor did he want to. And the birthday cake looked as though it had been sat on, come to think of it. Anyway, he just wanted to do his shopping and get home so he could start training.

_"There is more to life than training Harry. Adherence to a single ideal, a single purpose, is simply troubling and problematic. You must learn to widen your gaze," Kreia had warned him a few months prior. "You should not view the world around you as if glancing through a keyhole."_

Okay, maybe he wasn't running home and training. Yet. But he was curious as to what magic could do for him. From what he'd seen of it under Kreia's tutelage, it was particularly useful for augmenting the force and manipulating the landscape around him, but where the force granted him foresight and awareness, magic seemed to hold nothing else in the way of advantages. Well, if it did have uses, he'd be certain to discover them here.

He followed Hagrid up the steps outside a white marble building flanked by… "_Goblins_," Kreia's voice whispered in his head. "_Be wary of them, Harold_."

"Yeah, tha's a goblin," Hagrid whispered roughly in his ear. He saw it glare at them, and did not spare them another glance as they walked inside Gringotts. The force was issuing a warning against trifling with those creatures. Now, anyway.

"We'd like tah take some money outta Mr. Harry Potter's vault," Hagrid announced to the goblin teller who was waiting on them.

"Does he have his key?" The goblin asked in a crisp, businesslike voice.

Hagrid began going through his pockets, pulling out everything from dog biscuits to various keys and pieces of junk, in search of Harry's. "_Organization_ _is worth nothing if not done properly_." The memory of Kreia telling him that flashed through his head as Hagrid proceeded to go exploring further and further into his coat. Finally, after a long moment, and lots of stares thrown their way, Hagrid dug Harry's Gringott's key out of his pocket, and began piling everything else back in. 'So much for not attracting undue attention' was all Harry could think at that moment.

The teller summoned over a goblin named Griphook to take them to his vault, and also vault 713, so Hagrid could pick up something from in there. Or so the letter he'd thrown roughly to the teller seemed to say.

It was a long and arduous cart ride through the windy catacombs that housed Gringotts vaults, before they finally arrived at Harry's vault. The goblin quickly opened the vault to reveal his small fortune to him. And what a fortune it was.

"All yers," Hagrid announced proudly as the mountains of gold galleons, silver sickles, and bronze knuts came into view.

"_How much do I have, Master_?" Harry asked in his head. He knew Kreia could hear. Kreia could always hear.

"_Enough_," was the telepathic response. "_For a time, perhaps. But you will eventually need more. There is much that can be done with simple coin, after all. Put those concerns aside for now, and return to the present_."

Hagrid "helped" him scoop coins into a moneybag for him to take. If Harry had been allowed free reign, he would have taken a lot more. There was much use for "simple coin", or so he'd been told.

"_Temper your desires, Harold_," Kreia commanded. "_There will come a time when you are thankful for this moderating force_."

After they had collected some money, they hopped back in the cart and began journeying to the second vault. "_Mind the contents of this vault, Harold_."

"_I will_," Harry promised as they arrived. The goblin stroked the vault with his hand, forcing the wall to melt away, before announcing proudly, and quite maliciously, that if anyone else were to attempt that, they would become trapped in the vault.

Harry, in response to Hagrid's anticipation, and Kreia's warning, was expecting the contents of the vault to be rather impressive. And one grubby little package was surely not impressive. Or maybe it was… it depended on what was in it, after all. Hagrid eagerly scooped it up and cast a warning glance at Harry not to ask, and that was all he needed to know about how relatively valuable it was.

"_Should I try and swipe it_?" Harry asked telepathically.

"_No! Now is not the time. If it is to be done, it should be done at a better opportunity_," Kreia warned. "_Too much risk, too little reward, in such an endeavor at the present_."

Once they had returned to the Alley lane, it was time to do some shopping. Except Hagrid looked quite sick. Remembering his enthusiastic greeting at the Leaky Cauldron, and how much of a regular Hagrid appeared to be, Harry gave a huge push with the force to try and convince him to go off for a few drinks.

"Listen 'Arry, I hate those blasted carts. Would you mind if I got meself a pick-me up at the Cauldron," Hagrid asked.

"No problem Hagrid. I'll just get my robes and books. You can meet me in the bookstore when you feel better," Harry promised.

With that, Harry entered Madam Malkin's Robes For All Occasions, where she was apparently already busy with a customer, a young blond-haired boy. "Hogwarts, dear?" Asked the squat witch who was probably Madam Malkin. Harry nodded, and she set him up next to the boy.

"Hogwarts too?" The boy drawled.

"_Be wary of him_," Kreia warned.

"Yes," Harry replied idly, not really looking at him. It seemed like the boy was pretty well off, from the kinds of robes he was perusing. But he couldn't really feel through the force the threat associated with him; or whatever it was that had alarmed Kreia. Maybe that was his fault; perhaps more time needed to be devoted to training in that area.

"My father's next door buying my books and my mother's up the street looking at wands," he said in his usual drawl.

"Wands? I thought the wand chose the wizard," Harry pointed out. "Did she break hers or something?"

"No, she was looking for one for me," he replied easily. "Though if that's true, it hardly does her any good, does it?" He said after a moment of thought.

"No it doesn't. Personally, I'd say wands are the one thing a wizard would want to make sure they approved of, if you know what I mean," Harry posited.

"You're right," the boy agreed. "I'll need one that befits me and my status," he muttered. Harry pretended not to hear.

"So, know any good books. Latest curses and charms and that sort of thing?" Harry asked idly.

"Yeah, there was this one… it was a compilation of curses. I forget the name, but it was on sale, and it was supposed to be pretty good. Father won't get it for me, though," he sulked. "Says I need to study elsewhere first."

An awkward silence ensued from there. "I say, look at that man!" said Malfoy suddenly, nodding towards the front window. Harry looked and saw Hagrid. 'Damn, he's returned sooner than I expected.'

"That's Rubeus Hagrid, the Hogwarts groundkeeper." Harry said politely. Again, not that he really cared. The boy apparently did, though.

Malfoy scoffed, "I've heard of him. He's a sort of servant, isn't he?"

Harry put on a polite front, "Like I said, Hogwarts groundkeeper. Of course, if they didn't employ him, the castle would probably be besieged by all sorts of dangerous magical creatures." Maybe. On the other hand, seeing as he was apparently such a creature-nut, he might be doing more harm than good.

Malfoy ignored the second half, "Yes exactly. I heard he's a sort of savage- lives in a hut on the grounds and every now and then gets drunk, tries to do magic and ends up setting fire to his bed."

Harry looked at him oddly, "Where exactly did you hear this? I mean, unless you were getting drunk with him or stalking him, you'd never really know the truth. Rumors can only be so accurate."

"Hmm, yeah, that's true." said Malfoy cautiously. He stared at Hagrid speculatively. "Well, I guess I can reserve judgment until I'm actually at Hogwarts." He pondered for a moment before he looked up at Harry, "Hey, how do you know so much about him?" He paused a second. "Is he with you? Where are your parents?"

Harry's eyes narrowed and he saw the faint traces of nervousness in Malfoy, "My parents are dead," he replied emotionlessly.

The boy winced and looked apologetic at saying something so careless. "Sorry," He said slowly. He thought for a second, "But they were our kind, weren't they?"

Harry snorted and gave the boy an "are you serious" look. "Never mind," He muttered. He hoped it was enough to get him to drop the issue.

"You're done, dear," Madam Malkin said, and Harry took the opportunity to step down.

"See you at Hogwarts," the boy called out.

"Yeah, see you there," Harry replied as he left the shop with bundles of robes.

They then got Harry's school books, cauldron and potion supplies, potion ingredients- only the basics for everything; Harry could do more shopping later- he hoped. Then Hagrid stopped off and got Harry a birthday present- an owl, snowy white, that Harry dubbed Hedwig, before they ended up outside of Ollivander's. It was a nice gesture, if nothing else, Harry thought. On the other hand, Hagrid did say something about these owls being useful. Maybe he should test that out?

"Just yer wand left" Hagrid said as they strolled inside. As they entered, a tinkling bell sounded which Harry could feel alerted someone to their presence. Hagrid sat down on the unoccupied chair, and they waited patiently for the eccentric wandmaker.

Soon enough they heard a soft, "Good afternoon." Hagrid jumped and crushed the chair he was sitting on and then tried to cover it up by hastily scrambling to his feet while Harry remained motionless, betraying no shock. Outwardly. Inwardly, his heart skipped a beat. The force was a valuable ally indeed.

"Hello, Mr. Ollivander," Harry calmly replied. A very valuable ally.

The old man eyed him for a few moments. "Ah yes. Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Harry Potter." He continued, "You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Good for charm work." He moved closer, still surveying Harry in his silver eyes. "Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it- it's really the wand that chooses the wizard of course." Ollivander came still closer to Harry and brushed a thin white finger at his faded scar. "And that's where." He paused. "I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he said softly. "Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands… well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do…" And with that, he ended his impromptu soliloquy and turned his attention to Hagrid. "Rubeus! Rubeus Hagrid! How nice to see you again…Oak sixteen inches, rather bendy, wasn't it?"

"It was, sir, yes," Hagrid tersely replied, and the force fed Harry an image of the wand being snapped in front of him. Why would it have been, though?

"Good wand, that one. But I suppose they snapped it in half when you were expelled?" Ollivander queried sternly.

"Er- yes, they did, yes," said Hagrid nervously. "I've still got the pieces, though," He added brightly, glancing down, and Harry made the connection between the wand pieces and his umbrella.

"But you don't use them?" Ollivander continued sternly.

"Oh, no, sir," Hagrid replied quickly, unconsciously grabbing his umbrella and confirming Harry's theory that his umbrella held the remains of his wand.

"Hmmm," said Ollivander, as he gave Hagrid one last piercing look before turning his attention back to Harry. "Well, now- Mr. Potter. Let me see." He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings that Harry instantly knew was just for show. "Which is your wand arm?

"I'm right-handed, sir," said Harry. Maybe he should have said left-handed though; himself wielding a wand in his left hand and a lightsaber in his right would truly make for a formidable sight, after all.

"Hold out your arm. That's it." Ollivander set his tape measure to work on Harry while he rummaged around for wands. As it measured, Ollivander talked about how every wand had the core of a magical creature, and how Ollivander's used Unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and dragon heartstrings. He also mentioned no two wands were the same, and the best results came from a wand that was matched to you. Finally he was ready to begin, so he stopped the tape measure, which had been working on its own, and began handing Harry wands. First maple and phoenix feather, then ebony and unicorn hair, and then Harry lost count of the pile of rejected wands that grew bigger by the minute. Strangely, Ollivander became more excited with each rejected wand. "Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere- I wonder, now- yes, why not- unusual combination holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."

Harry took the wand and felt sudden warmth in his fingers. He raised the wand and then brought it swishing down sending a stream of red and gold sparks through the air. Hagrid clapped. Mr. Ollivander cried, "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well… how curious… how curious…"

He put Harry's wand in a box and wrapped it, still muttering, "Curious…Curious…"

"Sorry," stated Harry confusedly, "But what's curious?" Though Harry had a sinking feeling he knew.

Ollivander turned to Harry and fixed him with a stare. "I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather- just one other. It is very curious that you are destined for that wand when its brother- why, its brother gave you that scar."

Harry swallowed. Voldemort's was a brother to his wand. "Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember… I think we can expect great things from you, Mr. Potter… After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things- terrible, yes, but great," Mr. Ollivander continued to talk.

Unnoticed to both him and Hagrid, Harry had closed his eyes. He had slowed his breathing as he began concentrating; reaching out with the force. Sure enough, he could feel the connection- well, two be more accurate, two connections. One seems to lead northwards, towards where Hogwarts was supposed to be, while the other bounded south, perhaps towards Africa or Eastern Europe. What was that second connection he felt? Oh, it must have been where Voldemort's wand now lay. But why would it reside all the way down there?

"_Perhaps he's not as gone as first thought_," Kreia suggested. "_Or perhaps another has claimed his wand as a relic. There are many reasons that his wand could reside far away from here; some sinister, and others not so_."

"_True. However, something seems odd with the situation. Anyway, where does Hogwarts fit into this equation_?" Harry asked in return.

"_All answers will come in time, my apprentice. The force has a way of revealing everything, though its manner of presentation leaves much to be desired_," Kreia replied.

They paid for the wand, and proceeded to walk back up the street. "Hagrid, before we leave, can we see about getting me a trunk or something to carry all of this stuff in?" Harry asked.

"Sure," Hagrid chuckled. "There's ah store righ' near the Cauldron." Hagrid quickly led him there, and Harry purchased a trunk with an extension charm on it, that could just barely fit all the stuff he'd bought that day.

"How does it feel, bein' a wizard an going off ter Hogwarts?" Hagrid asked curiously as they dined before Harry took a train back to Kreia.

Harry shrugged. "I always knew there was something different about me. My relatives and I never really got along, and I couldn't quite figure out why. And then when day, I kind of figured it out. That was when my Aunt told me. I don't really feel anything, Hagrid," Harry confessed.

Hagrid chuckled, finding amusement in is answer. "Yu'll do fine at Hoogwarts. Yu'll see."

Harry grinned. "Oh, you can count on it."

* * *

"_Will it be harder to communicate once I reach Hogwarts?"_ Harry asked Kreia from his compartment on the Express. Of course she couldn't come along; too many questions would have been raised, but the thing about her was that she could always be there.

"_Not particularly. Our lessons will continue after a fashion. I still have a great deal to teach you, though you have come far_," Kreia replied. "_But there is still a great distance to traverse for us to reach our destination_."

"_And I am grateful for all you have taught me," _Harry answered.

The train whistle sounded, alerting parents and students alike to its imminent departure. "_Know that much may happen at your school, but please, I beg you, above all, do not forget this- you may trust me. I have nurtured you from stagnation to greatness- your success is my success. Your failure is my failure. What threatens you threatens me in turn. Our destinies have been bound together by the force. But, if, after a time, you find that you can not fully trust me, trust in your hours, the days, the weeks, the sweat, the blood. Trust in yourself. Never doubt all you have done; all that has led you to this point. And all you have left to accomplish_," Kreia finished.

Harry stared at the empty seat opposite him, not really seeing it. "_I will_," he whispered back. And then she was gone.


	5. Chapter 5

AN: I did get some reviews pointing out that he did not purchase a second wand while in the Alley. I did not forget, however, such a thing would have looked very suspicious. Here is my own explanation in this newest installment. I don't own Harry Potter or Kotor, and I hope you all enjoy.

Chapter Three: A Touch of The Dark Side

_"You have your second wand now?" Kreia asked. Harry glanced around, still nervous. It just seemed to be too good to be true that no one else would notice their presence in the Alley. The technique he'd used against the Dursleys had been applied so randomly to such a large congregation of people. "You were wise to avoid making such a purchase in front of the servant. And you were right; there is much else needed here for your progress."_

_ Feeling secure for the moment, he slowly pulled out the second wand from beneath his cloak and passed it to Kreia. She grasped it and turned it over, almost like she was feeling for something within its very fiber of being. And then she gently handed it back to him, almost in the same manner as if she were returning the practice lightsaber to his downed form after his defeat in one of their spars._

_ "Acceptable. And what components make up the whole?"_

_ "It's ten and a half inches, also made of Holly, but with Unicorn hair."_

_ "Interesting combination." She gestured to a bag at her feet. "These are the ingredients you will need. You must dedicate yourself to the art of potions."_

_ "Why?" Harry asked curiously. Kreia always tried to avoid such blanket sweeping statements._

_ "Why ask when you can simply reach out with the force for an answer?"_

_ "Because the force does not give answers in such matters but rather advance interpretations. The force is only as strong in this regard as the master plan it seeks to adhere to," Harry replied. "The master plan that we are all merely pawns in play for."_

_ "Excellent. Now then, there is a world of power most force users only ever glimpse. The world of Sith alchemy. But before you arrive at that exclusive destination, you must dedicate yourself to potions, to alchemy, and then to the subset of the most advanced discipline. You will find this… useful in time, no matter how much you may dislike it at first," She explained quietly._

_ "And what of the books? Did you go to Flourish &-"_

_ "A test, my young apprentice. I have marked my presence near several tomes that I thought would come to your aid in the not-too-far-off future. Go into the bookstore, stay undetected whist doing so, and find each and every book I marked. I shall meet you near the register. You have twenty minutes." Harry scrambled inside the bookstore to find what she recommended. Because the penalty for failure of one of Kreia's pop quizzes was… rather unpleasant._

_ "Eighteen minutes, forty-six seconds," Kreia told him as he scrambled back to meet up with her. "But do you have them all? Show them to me." Harry began handing her books, to which she nodded in approval to each one. Some of the books he had no idea about, like An Introduction To The Mind Arts or Unfogging The Future. "You have missed one," She declared finally. "I put three books together, and you have only taken two. Go retrieve the third now." Harry ran off, because if he didn't work quickly to rectify his mistake, the penalty would be much, much worse. _

"_Yes this is the one," Kreia declared as he scurried back to her five minutes later. "Guard this one with care; it will be useful in the future. Now go pay. I will meet you outside as I detest this rabble," She turned on her heal. "Do not dally, there is much still needed, and our normal counterparts have many answers we seek."_

* * *

He must have looked very strange. If one did not know better- though Kreia was fond of saying that in fact one did not know better- it would have looked like he was miming holding a book. His hands were stretched out in front of him, and tilted in such a manner as if he were pressing a book to his face. The reason for this was apparent to him, as he was only able to read the _Invisible Book of Invisibility_ through the aid of the Force, where as to anyone else, the book could not be seen. Of course, seeing as he could no longer hide his presence and read at the same time, onlookers would meet with a very strange sight.

"Is anyone else sitting h- what are you doing?" The girl opposite him asked curiously.

Harry looked up from his book. She was his age, with long red hair worn in a plait down her back, and rather smaller in stature than him. "No one else I sitting here," Harry curtly informed her. He would have liked to have added, 'And please let it stay that way,' but even far away, Kreia would know of his poor execution in shutting the door on opportunity, and he would have paid dearly for his few moments of peace. It was not worth it.

"What are you doing?" She asked again, curiously.

"Reading."

"Um… there's nothing there."

"Nothing you can see. Go on, feel it," Harry said, holding out the book. Incredulously, she reached out a hand, expecting it to pass through air, but she hit her hand on something solid.

"Ouch!" She recoiled, and gazed at his outstretched hand curiously. "Why can't I see it?" She paused. "Wait, why can you see it?"

Harry shrugged. "There are some skills that have fallen out of practice these days. It's a book on Invisibility; that's why you can't see it."

"Invisibility? That's a little advanced, don't you think. I mean we haven't learned any magic yet," She protested.

"And it will probably stay that way unless you are willing to take the initiative," Harry replied sharply. His face softened slightly. "So what can I do for you?"

"Uh yeah- about that seat-"

"Take it if you want," Harry replied neutrally.

She stepped in, pulling her trunk when another girl, this one pink-faced with freckles and long blond hair in pigtails ran up to her. "Hey Susie, Ernie and I have a compartment down the way. Come and join us!" She squeaked excitedly.

"Oh, sure." She turned around, "Later…"

"Harry-" He volunteered.

"Harry," She finished. "See you up at school." And with that, she and her companion left. Only to be replaced by another blond.

"There you are!" The face of Draco Malfoy came into view, flanked by two larger boys. "I'd wondered where you'd got to; I've been looking for you. Come and join me and my friends."

Knowing this was an invitation not to be refused; Harry stood up, replaced the book in his trunk, and grabbed it. "Where to?" He asked neutrally.

"Follow me," The blond commanded, walking up the train. A few minutes later, they arrived at another compartment. The two boys retook their seats next to Malfoy, and across from two girls, one with a hard face and black hair, and another black haired girl but much larger in stature. She sat next to a shifty looking boy with brown hair. And finally, next to one of his summoner's bodyguards sat another girl with charcoal-black hair and a much thinner frame.

"This is the boy I was telling you about. This is…" He paused and leaned close to Harry. "I just realized I never got your name," He whispered urgently.

Harry shrugged and walked past him to the one unoccupied seat. "Harry Potter." Everyone else's mouths fell open. The thin looking weedy boy actually turned to stare at him.

"Harry Potter?" Draco mouthed. He nodded his head slightly, and he promptly worked to regain his composure. "Well, now you know why I thought he was interesting," He commented as he closed the compartment door and retook his seat.

"You… are Harry Potter?' The girl opposite asked cautiously.

"Are you implying that I'm incapable of remembering my name?" Harry asked sourly, and she paled.

"No, no, no! I wasn't! I was not! I just-" the boy next to him cut her off.

"He does have the scar," The boy pointed out. "I'm pretty sure that this is him."

"If I have to say it again I will start hexing people," Harry warned, rather annoyed. "Get past it. Unless you want me to gawk like an idiot when you all introduce yourselves." It was such a subtle dig at their lack of courtesy that he was surprised that it actually achieved the desired ends.

"Theodore Nott," The boy next to him said immediately, holding out a hand, which Harry promptly shook.

"Daphne Greengrass," Stated the girl opposite him, and she too held out her hand, which was also shaken. "It's a pleasure."

"Millicent Bulstrode," The girl next to Theodore said. Luckily, she was too far away to shake his hand because she probably would have crushed it.

"Pansy Parkinson," Said the girl next to Millicent.

"These are Crabbe and Goyle," Draco introduced for his bodyguards, "And I'm Draco Malfoy."

"Malfoy," Harry stated blankly, going still. He sighed, and stood up to reach for his trunk.

"What are you doing?" Draco asked quickly.

Harry opened the trunk and withdrew what he was looking for. Grasping it, he closed the trunk and handed the newspaper to Malfoy. "Page six. Your father seems to be really bad with public relations."

Malfoy gaped at him, and turned to the page he pointed out. He read the article through, all eyes on him. "I don't see the problem," He said after a few minutes of quick reading.

"That is also part of the problem," Harry sighed. "Look at him in the picture above. Notice his posture. Isn't a wizard of his stature supposed to act in a more regal manner?" Harry asked blandly.

Draco's eyes widened, horrified. "In front of everyone too?" He whispered, shocked.

"Yes. That's why the name stuck out to me. Because you are not supposed to get up in front of a crowd at St. Mungo's who you've just donated enough gold to, to add a small wing, only to trip up to the pedestal, land on the Minister, and knock him off the stage and into the food prep tables," Harry sighed. Of course, his companion would never know that Harry himself decided that his… political posturing needed to be handcuffed in exactly such a manner.

Crabbe snickered over his shoulder, and Goyle, who glanced over, soon did the same, as Draco stared, transfixed, and fully horrified, as he watched his father trip into and knock the Minister off the platform again and again. Finally, he could take no more, and angrily thrust it aside. Only for the copy of yesterday's paper to be picked up by Theo Nott.

"Ehem," Draco cleared his throat nervously, attempting to get attention off of him in such a negative manner. "So, Potter, I see you clearly desire the company of the more affluent wizard's going to Hogwarts."

"Nah, not really," Harry explained sitting back. "I was just kind of bored, so I thought I should see what was going on. I mean, I'm Harry Potter. How much more affluence is required?"

Draco smirked. "None, of course. But it is nice to see that you aren't associating with blood traitors and riffraff."

Harry dropped his smile and sighed. "You are such an obstinate child," He said as he covered his head with his hands. "Riffraff and blood traitors? Weren't you the one crowing with delight at the possibility of getting into Slytherin?" He nodded confusedly. "Well Draco, you do not throw away potential resources. Period. Forget your dislike, forget their failings; you don't do it. Because that's just an invitation for rivals to come along and utilize them in a better way than you ever could," Harry muttered. He shook his head. "Riffraff and blood traitors. Ugh. Is this what hath become of the house of Slytherin?"

Apparently, that succeeded in offending Draco's delicate sensibilities like nothing else Harry had done. "You clearly don't understand, Potter," He replied angrily. "Those… mudbloods, they come into our world, trying to flaunt their views, trying to-"

"Never. Throw. Away. Potential Resources," Harry interrupted in a low whisper. "Or never desire to be in the House of Slytherin." He shook his head again. "Come into our world, try and flaunt their views," He repeated disgustedly. "You moron; can't you see opportunity knocking on the front door?" Harry asked rhetorically. "If they are so desperate to fit in, let them pay the admittance price. Ugh," He threw up his hands in disgust. "Disappointing. Very disappointing. Well Draco, thank you for the stimulating conversation, but I must be on my way," Harry said as he got up and grabbed his trunk. "I'll see you in Slytherin." He left before he could take note of the occupant's full reactions to his statements.

As he was walking back to where he had started, he passed a compartment with two girls and a boy sitting inside. That was the moment when the force took the opportunity to poke him, as if to say, "Go inside." Harry backtracked slightly and entered the compartment. "May I sit with you?"

The boy was darker skinned, with high cheekbones and a thin head of hair. Of the two girls with him, both were lighter skinned, but one had long brown hair and was shorter in stature than either of her companions, while the other girl had short blond hair, and was slightly taller. The boy shrugged. "Sure."

Harry made his way inside and deposited his trunk on the rack, before closing the door again. He took a seat next to the boy, and held out a hand. "Harry Potter."

The boy's eyes rose slightly before there was a gleam of… interest. Yes, that best described it. He shook his hand while the two girls stared at him. "Blaise Zabini."

"Slytherin?" Harry asked immediately. "And I mean really a Slytherin, not a moron like Draco Malfoy."

Blaise snickered. "I see you've met my third cousin. We generally don't get along. No, I'm a Slytherin through and through. You?"

"Slytherin," Harry replied simply. "I doubt there is anywhere else for me but there." He turned his body, "And you two are?"

One of the girls closed her mouth abruptly. "Tracey Davis," The blond stated, holding out a hand.

Harry promptly shook it. "And you?" He asked politely of the girl next to Tracey, who had seemingly not yet recovered her faculties.

"Lillian Moon," She squeaked at last. She was too embarrassed to return his handshake.

"It's bad manners at Hogwarts," Harry warned. "Even if you absolutely hate a person's guts off the bat, it's a tradition to shake their hand the first time you meet them in the magical world. Size them up and all that." Which brought his thoughts back to the girl who'd barged in on him and left earlier; maybe she didn't know. Or care. Chastised, she shook his hand. "Muggleborn?" Harry asked quietly. Slowly, she nodded. "And Slytherin bound? Bad luck for you, my dear," She blushed.

"I'm a half-blood," Tracey interjected.

"As am I," Harry replied. "And of course, we have Blaise Zabini, whose blood is purer than gold, sitting amongst us. Shouldn't we all feel honored?"

Blaise smiled slightly. "You, I like, Potter. So, on to the question of the day, He-Who-Must-"

"Please, can't you just say Dark Lord or something?" Harry whined. "That's too long; I'm losing interest. Of course, you could call him by his name." Blaise shook his head profusely. "Fine. Yes, I apparently defeated him. Hell if I know what I did. Or maybe I'm just saying that because I want an ace in the hole."

Blaise shook his head. "You were born for Slytherin," He muttered. "The Head of House is going to hate you," He commented idly.

"Severus Snape? I'll probably hate him back," Harry shrugged. "Who cares?"

"Up for a game of chess?" Blaise offered. "Neither of them wanted to play."

"Sure, I'm in," Harry said. "Set them up, Blaise."

* * *

"Hello, Severus Snape," The speaker was a cloaked figure, that hid all features save one; her flowing white locks of hair. It was also apparent from the voice that the speaker was female.

"Who are you?" He burst out angrily. "Why are you interrupting me? How did you get in here?"

"Sit." He sat, not knowing what compulsion came over him to do so. "Harry Potter arrives here soon. You have already been tasked with watching over him. I am merely here to remind you of your failing. Even if a decade has passed since." He paled. "I know, Severus. I know of the past that haunts you."

"What do you want?" He asked defiantly.

"You failed her. She was your first friend, the love of your life. You failed her," She stated. "Remind yourself where it was you failed, the transgressions you committed. Her cold lifeless body, once bursting to the seams with life, now a mere empty shell; all the direct result of your actions." He stared at her, stony-faced. "Such failings carry a debt to be paid. Her son comes now to Hogwarts. You will not interfere with him. You will not work against him. You will not trifle with him. For if you do, then I will break you."

He snorted. "What can you possibly do to me? Your threats carry no weight next to my other two masters."

She paused. "Do you remember that moment, the breeze blowing on your face, as you uttered two syllables whilst otherwise enraged and incapacitated that changed your life? The sting in your heart as you realized, with horror, what exactly you had done? I can make you relive it. Again. And again. Feel once more every moment of the pain and suffering you endured from that moment forward. From rejection." He looked as if he had been slapped in the face. "You will watch over him. Because unlike your first master, my punishment will not be death, but rather, a desperate longing for it. And if you do not… if you seek to try me, then it won't be your end. It will be his." She turned, not waiting to see the expression on his face. "Tell no one of this," She commanded as she left the room. And finally, he was once more able to move.

* * *

_"You could be great, you know. It's all right here, in your head. And Slytherin could help you on our way to greatness."_ The hat whispered, enticingly, almost excitedly, in his ear. The Hat already knew. It already knew what he was, where he was destined to be. It was merely granting him the illusion of choice. For effect. Because it seemed quite apparent, that his skills, his destiny, resided in the House of Slytherin. And Tracey and Lillian sat at the end of the table, saving places for him and Blaise.

"_You know what to do,"_ Harry replied solemnly in his head. _"The choice has already been made."_ This choice would have a great cost. But some debts needed to be paid.

"SLYTHERIN!" The hat belted to the hall, which had gone suddenly still and quite as Harry took it off and walked over to his new friends. He pretended to ignore the accusing stares, the sudden horror that came over those he passed, the worried glances cast on him by the professors. He was a Slytherin from the moment he had begun studying under Kreia, in all but name. And now the circle was complete. It was as she had told him.


	6. Chapter 6

AN: Yet another chapter that's just too short. Trust me, I know. But that will be changing soon. I believe I've set everything in motion that I need. I also know that it's been too long. That… I have no idea whether that will change or not; work and all. Either way, I don't own Harry Potter, and I hope you all enjoy.

Chapter Four: On My Own

To any other, the looks being received would have been enough to make them crack. To Harry Potter, apprentice to Kreia, formerly known as Darth Traya, this was par for the course; an exercise in willpower. And, come to think of it, one of the easier one's he'd faced in recent years. It was suspicion- raw, intense suspicion- but it could be managed. All he had to do was be quiet, keep his head down, and convince people that he was not the potential Dark Lord they were now seeing in his place. But that was a task for later, and one to be pursued with much more care and finesse; for now, his friends… allies awaited.

"You know, I might be grasping at straws here, but I think people might disapprove," Blaise muttered after he'd finished the sorting and sat down next to Harry. "Not that you'd ever know, or anything. They're all quite subtle." It took several moments for the professors to restore order and continue the ceremony. Several long moments that forced Blaise to stand around awkwardly with the rest of unsorted first years while glares and whispers were thrown in his new friend's direction. Once order had been resumed, the rest had been sorted quickly and things seemed to return back to normal. And even then, Harry still attracted uneasy looks like moths to a flame.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Harry replied innocently. He glanced back at the Head Table. "Should I apologize for thinking Slytherin is the correct House for me? Think that would smooth things over?"

"Yeah. That would go over well. 'Professor Dumbledore, I'm sorry I became a Slytherin. I'm really not that evil. Is there any way I can make it up to you?'" Blaise chuckled. He glanced up at the head table; curious eyes peered back at where they sat. "Well, some of them seem to forgive you for the sin of being sorted here."

"Wasn't aware it was a sin," Harry replied icily. What he was going to say next was interrupted by Dumbledore getting to his feat as McGonagall cleared away the Sorting Hat and the stool.

"Welcome!" he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!" He sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered. Except, of course, for the most cynical and jaded amongst their house.

"You know, he's not really that senile, considering his age," Harry mused. Blaise laughed. "I mean if you're a hundred and fifty year-old, then four words of gibberish seems pretty good." Tracey stared at him before she shook her head.

"Roast beef?" she offered, passing him the dish piled with meat. Harry glanced around the table and saw all the dishes were piled with food, from roast beef and pork chops to roast potatoes and fries, all of which appeared while they were distracted. Nice sleight of hand. He'd taken lessons with a local magician once; Kreia insisted it was an art he needed to learn and appreciate. At first, he hadn't seen what was so great about simple parlor tricks. After all, Kreia could have taught him so many more important things in all that time. But now… now he could properly appreciate it. It truly was an art; one that could prove very useful.

"Sure," Harry replied, beginning to pile his plate high with food. The food was much better than what his Aunt generally made because she always had to choose quantity over quality considering her family's appetites. And he'd rarely had the option of eating out. Hungrily, Harry dove into his food.

While he was eating, a tall, muscular boy with large teeth and coal black hair suddenly sat down next to Harry. He stared at him, giving him a once over, before holding out his hand. "Marcus Flint," He introduced politely.

"Harry Potter." He held out his own hand and shook it firmly. As Kreia had once told him, a firm handshake was one of those ways that a firm character could be established to another with little input cost. "But I'm pretty sure you already knew that. So what year are you, Marcus?"

"Fifth year. And of course yer a wee firstee." He smirked. "Gemma is going to have fun with you." He glanced down the table, to an older student sporting a prefect badge with blonde hair and a rather put-out disposition.

"Well, that's unfortunate." Looked like a rather unpleasant chap. "So, what are the classes like?" Harry asked, trying to take his mind off the unpleasant looking prefect. All of the other first years leaned in interested in Flint's answer.

"Well… they're kind of boring, actually," Flint muttered, looking like he was kicking a puppy. "I mean History of Magic is basically a glorified naptime, and Astronomy… well, what's the point? And if you're really good at something, there are no advanced classes or anything. So yeah, really kind of boring."

"But there is a huge library, right?" Harry asked. If you wanted something done right, you apparently had to do it for yourself, which meant that it was fortunate that Harry had a huge collection of books to peruse for information. It was an alternative, at the very least. More than most people had.

"Yeah, there is," Flint admitted. "But trust me, it's hard to look through. Poor organization. And Madam Pince… well you'll meet her soon enough. Then you'll understand," Marcus assured him. He cleared his throat, looking to get back to what he was really interested in. "So Harry Potter is a Slytherin?"

Harry's eyes widened. "You mean this is Slytherin? I thought the hat told me I should be in Gryffindor. Just like it must have told you to head to Ravenclaw," He finished. Marcus shook his head. "See the crest? Means I'm in Slytherin."

"And how has the Boy Who Lived come to grace the noble house of snakes?" A snide voice cut in. They turned to see Draco Malfoy, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. Several other nearby students turned, looking rather interested in the answer to that question as well.

"I should be asking you something similar. You really just asked me that?" Harry replied with a shake of his head. "And you actually expected an answer? It seems your father's subtlety has rubbed off on you." A few snickers escaped from people who'd heard his comment and were in the know about what had transpired.

Draco's face went a shade similar to old porridge. He was about to retort when Flint gave him a look that had him flee back down to his end of the table. Even Draco Malfoy wasn't willing to challenge an older student, in so public a forum, on his first night at Hogwarts. "He might be rather tactless, but it's still an intriguing question," Flint pointed out neutrally.

"What makes anyone at this table a Slytherin but traits associated with Salazar Slytherin?" Harry asked in reply. "I apparently possess enough of these traits, as do you, that the Hat decided Slytherin was our place to be. Period. And I'm not willing to offer a referendum on those traits at this moment. But still around, I might have something witty to say on this later," He finished smugly.

Flint stared at him. "You still haven't answered the question. It's something a good Slytherin knows how to do. Seems you really do belong here." At least his approval seemed to settle down the table.

"So glad to have your approval," Harry muttered. Despite his sarcasm, he was glad some he'd momentarily stopped some of the glares he was getting from his housemates. At that moment the meals on the plates were cleared away and dessert came and took its place. It looked just as appetizing as dinner had been. "So, how did you come to be a Slytherin?" He asked Flint mockingly.

Flint shrugged, deciding to be serious. Which, considering his earlier comments, was enough to set off alarm bells in his head. "How does anyone become a Slytherin? Have half a brain, some wit, and a bit of cunning, and you get to reside in the House of Snakes. That's really all there is to it." He eyed Harry speculatively. And lowered his voice accordingly. "You seem to be a rather promising new Slytherin, Potter. Perhaps you and I could help each other out?"

Well, he was supposed to be on the lookout for allies. And despite the fact that he had approached him- a negative in Kreia's book- he did seem to wield considerable influence in the House. "Perhaps we could," Harry conceded. He surveyed Flint steadily. "Yes, I think we definitely could."

Any further conversation up and down the table was halted as the Headmaster got to his feet and the desserts were cleared away. "Ahem- just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give to you.

"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well." Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed towards the Gryffindor table. "I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch. And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death." Harry stared at him blandly while a few others around him actually laughed. Seriously? Death? Was this a put on?

'_Concentrate, Harold. Do not take such threats lightly.' _Timing, Kreia. Timing. _'Recognize the seriousness of the threat, Harold. Reach out. Analyze the situation. The problem you dismiss is certain to take away from your focus in the long run. Prevent that from ever happening.'_

'Fine.' He closed his eyes, trying to call upon the Force, to see if it would enlighten about his threat. Slowly, he began to feel… something. He was pretty what he was feeling was related to Dumbledore's warning. But it felt… aggressive… wild… animalistic, even…and he felt… something… a secret… one that was supposed to stay buried. Animals and secrets?

'_Ah, you have felt it. Yes, it appears that danger and secrets lurk quite close by. Be on your guard, Harold. I do not doubt that this danger will eventually involve you in some way_,' She warned him before the connection faded.

'Does she have to call me that?' Harry thought, before he turned his attention back to the Headmaster, who was now preparing to conduct the school song. Harry pretended to sing while his thoughts drifted. 'Secrecy and danger.' Well, secrets were his lifeblood by this point. He had to live with the shroud of secrecy around him for years, especially with Kreia's training. He always had the feeling that… if anyone knew about her, there would definitely be trouble. That was something he was certain of- the force told him that much.

"Oy, First Years! First Years!" The Prefects had gotten to their feet and were calling over all the first years. Harry, with his associates in tow, quickly walked over. "Still with us, Potter? Haven't run off yet?" Remarked a nasty looking Sixth-Year Student. Most definitely not a prefect.

"How charming. And who exactly are you?" Harry asked neutrally.

"And why do you want to know that?" He hissed.

"Well, with such wit, a comedian like yourself will be going places," Harry replied blandly. "It would behoove me to keep you in mind, wouldn't it?" He continued lightly, pretending as if he had not a care in the world.

The student reddened slightly. He wanted to punch the little brat's face in, but this was not the time or the place. "Watch yourself, Potter. Because, one wrong step, and I'll be right waiting," He threatened, walking away. He certainly looked like he could make good on his threat.

"His favorite book must be _How To Win Friends And Influence People_," Harry whispered to Blaise, who began chuckling slightly as the last of their fellow first-years flocked over. The Prefect shot them a nasty look before beckoning them onwards.

* * *

"-Two to a room," the Prefect barked. "Choose wisely. Because if you pick wrong, and I have to start getting involved in your menial little fights, then I get to pick your second choice. And my choice will be you rooming with our… jovial Head of House. Speaking of which, leave your things and be down in five minutes. He wants to speak with you." Harry and Blaise glanced at each other before heaving their trunks into one of the unoccupied rooms. Rooming with each other seemed like a better option that sharing one with the ferret, his pet gorillas, or the shifty looking kid.

Five minutes later, a horde of frightened First-Years, and a calm and collected Harry Potter assembled downstairs to meet their new head of house. At exactly five minutes, their Head of House walked in, black cloak billowing. He stared around, his pale face expressionless, before his eyes locked on Harry. He glared, and then promptly looked away.

"I am Severus Snape, the School's Potions Master. And you are all new Slytherins, fresh-faced little twits now calling this most Ancient and Noble House your home. As if you deserve such a privilege," He hissed his voice like sandpaper on wood. He continued on, explaining to them about how the House valued secrecy and cunning, and assuring them that any public displays would bring down the wrath of his disfavor upon their heads. He left them with a warning them of the consequences of their disturbing him with their, "Insignificant little problems."

"How cheery," Harry remarked quietly as the man stalked away. "What a delightful fellow. Perhaps he should have been a motivational speaker." People just didn't seem to appreciate his attempt at humor sometimes.

"Piss him off at your own risk. And leave me out of it," Blaise whispered back, turning away.

"Now off to bed with you firsties," The Prefect commanded them; forcefully leading them back to their dorms. Harry and Blaise proceeded back to their room and shut the dorm. Though he was tired, Harry decided to unpack a little. After all, he was going to be just as unwilling to do it tomorrow as he was tonight. So why not sooner rather than later?

Their room was cool and damp, with a slightly musty smell. The walls were made of roughly carved stone, hard to the touch. In the room were two four-poster beds, two wardrobes, two mahogany desks, one charmed window granting a rather nice view outside, and two small empty bookcases. Harry began unpacking and arranging his books on his own bookcase as Blaise got into his pajamas.

"Night Harry," He said, getting into bed. "You shouldn't stay up too late with that. We have classes in the morning. And I'm pretty sure you'll need to be, or at least want to be, awake for that."

"I won't," Harry replied. "I just want to get this straightened out so there's a bit less to do tomorrow. I'll try to be quiet, though. Good night, Blaise."

* * *

"Here's your schedule. Now get out of my sight," Snape snarled, thrusting Harry's schedule at him and walking away. He stalked down the length of the table handing out timetables, though no one else seemed to evoke a similar reaction.

"Boy, he seems to really like you," Blaise commented sarcastically, looking his own schedule over. What did that Flint guy say about History of Magic? Because it looked like first up was-

"Well whatever it is, I didn't do it," Harry replied, checking out his own. "You were right. Full day ahead."

"History of Magic?" Blaise asked, just to make sure he was seeing right, and his fellow Slytherins had the same schedules. Oh yeah, it was supposed to be a total bore; a nap waiting to happen.

"Yup. Some of the chatter I heard suggests that this will be an excellent opportunity to catch up on your sleep. Flint, specifically," Harry remarked disinterestedly. "Why anyone would allow a class to become a naptime is beyond me, but who am I to comment? Not as if I could run the place any better."

"And then we have a free period," Blaise continued, ignoring his rambling.

"Excellent. I've heard good things about the school library. We're going to take a look," Harry said, his tone brokering no argument.

"Aw, come on. It looks like a nice day. Do we have to spend it in the library?" Blaise whined. Even though he was pretty sure he'd lost this fight, he had to try. For his own sanity, if nothing else.

"You're free to do whatever you want, Blaise, but knowledge is power. And frankly, if nothing else, I want to know the kinds of books they have. At very least, looking now means less work in the future," Harry explained patiently.

"Fine, I'll come along," Blaise groused. He looked back at the slightly overcast sky, and remembered how chilly it had been the night before. "I suppose there will be other days, better days."

"That's the spirit," Harry cheered. He thought for a second. "Out of curiosity, you any good with a sword?" Hey, he had to find someone. Or he risked returning to Kreia after months of having not practiced. He was certain that there were scarier propositions, but he couldn't think of anything else at the moment.

"Umm, what does this have to do with anything?" He saw the look on Harry's face. It was a look that said plainly; answer truthfully or I will make you pay. Maybe not today, not tomorrow, maybe not this month, but you will pay if you don't tell me what I want to know. "Sure, I guess. Why?"

"Maybe we can get in a little practice over the next few days," He commented idly. Blaise stared at his fast-becoming friend. Did he hear right? He wanted to spar against him with a sword? "Hey, I think I'm pretty good with a sword." Blaise suddenly felt very, very afraid. In fact, he kind of wished he just hadn't answered.

* * *

"What the hell was that!" Blaise muttered, stretching slightly as he got up from his chair, and rubbing sand from his eyes.

"Like we were told, naptime," Harry commented as he stood up from his own. Binns had floated out of the room the second the bell had rung, so he couldn't overhear their little bitching session. Which was probably a good thing; it was never good to make enemies, even if they technically weren't alive. "Well, come on, then. The library awaits."

"Oh joy," Blaise muttered. He paused and looked at Harry. "Do you know where it is? And how exactly did you get here earlier?" He asked suspiciously. "We were the only people on time," He pointed out accusingly. Could he actually somehow know his way around the castle?

'The Force,' "Just a feeling, Blaise. By the way, where are Tracey, and Lily?" He asked curiously. He hadn't seen the pair much since this morning, and he'd thought they'd stick close to them since they seemed to know their way around the place.

"Eh, who knows?" Blaise replied idly. "Maybe they're trying to find their own way around." He couldn't have said any plainer that he didn't really care where they had gotten to.

Harry shrugged, momentarily agreeing with his opinion. "Whatever. We'll catch up with them later. Let's go."

Five minutes later, Blaise still marveling at Harry's navigational skills, they arrived in the library. It was… well, it was pretty gigantic. And… on the surface, it seemed pretty poorly organized. Again, just as Flint had said. Some sections were labeled, "Transfiguration", "Charms", "Arithmancy" and the like, but… well he'd been to libraries before, and this definitely wasn't like anyone he'd ever seen. And that was not a good thing. Unconsciously, he walked over to the Transfiguration section and glanced at some of the titles: 'Inanimate-to-Animate,' 'Basic Transfiguration', 'Animate-to-Inanimate', 'Material Transfiguration', 'Reflection of Gamp's Laws'… What the hell was all this?

Forget organization- what was with these titles? And the other sections weren't much better. 'Animation.' 'Guardian Properties.' 'Heralds of The Tea Leaves.' This would be so much similar if someone had just provided a reference glossary of some kind. Still…

The Force spiked, and he turned to his right. He could feel something… He stopped as the feeling intensified. His hand rested on a book, and he knew it was the one meant for him. He pulled it out, and turned it over. 'Basic Transfiguration Theory.' Well, that was simple enough.

"Got something?" Blaise asked, looking over his shoulder. "Transfiguration? Why'd you want that?"

"Could be useful," Harry replied neutrally. "And we have a Transfiguration lesson soon. Studying up can't hurt." 'Even though I have all those other books… the Force has never really served me wrong yet.'

"If you say so," Blaise replied skeptically, still staring at the thick, green volume. "Anything else you want?"

"Nah, I think I have more than enough for the time being. Just wanted to get a feel for this place," Harry said. "To be honest, I really can't call this a library. Libraries are way better organized." He'd made sure that his comment was out of earshot of the librarian; he'd already heard the tales of her legendary unpleasantness.

"How can you say such a thing! This is supposed to be the biggest collection of-" Harry and Blaise turned to see a girl with bushy-brown hair who immediately started on a long-winded explanation of its history, and how the Hogwart's library had evolved since the Founders built it and-

"Okay, I'm sorry. You clearly know a lot about this but… well, my God you are boring!" Harry exclaimed. And he just barely refrained from pointing out how rude barging in on a private conversation was.

"Yeah, you lost me somewhere between Hogwarts: A History and the Founders," Blaise agreed quickly. "Come on, Harry."

Not wanting to spend any more time with the weird girl who gave out impromptu lectures, Harry quickly followed him out of the library before the girl could properly react. "She was weird," He remarked.

"I agree," Harry replied. "On the other hand, my Slytherin side says that people who can remember textbooks word for word, and have such a scholarly inclination, are people who can be valuable. On the other hand, she was rather-"

"Unbearable," Blaise suggested. He saw Harry's look. "She isn't a bad person or anything, well, I don't think she is, but everything added together- the rambling, the pushiness, her didactic tone- yeah, I think unbearable is the right word."

"True. But things do change. People do change. There could come a time when she might be a very good ally to have. But enough of this, we have to get to class," Harry replied.

Blaise stared at his friend, who seemingly knew how to navigate this weird castle. Knew how to navigate some of the weird people in this castle. No one else he met seemed capable of doing that. Either of those things, really. Good thing he'd forged such a beneficial alliance. "How does he do that?" He marveled quietly.

* * *

"Harry… Harry… Harry…" Harry opened his eyes slowly. Where was he? It was so… dark. He could barely see anything. And his other senses weren't much of a help right now. He turned his head slightly. "Harry…Harry." He turned once again in the other direction.

"Who's calling me? Who are you?" Harry called out. Nothing. No response. This was so weird. Where was he? Why was he here? Who was calling him? Movement. He saw it out of the corner of his eye and turned. Before him stood a figure cloaked in an all black robe, his face covered by a mask. "Who are you?" Harry asked again.

The figure stood before him. "I am here for you. I have heard much about you," He hissed quietly. At least, the figure sounded like a he. "And you have heard much of me." Silence. "You may call me… Revan."


End file.
